


Down a Blind Alley

by FitzDizzyspells



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FitzDizzyspells/pseuds/FitzDizzyspells
Summary: It's 1969, and things are not going Todd Ollivander's way. The only thing that can distract him from his self-pity are these strange and insidious incidents that keep happening in Diagon Alley. These dark wizards can't get away with this... can they?





	Down a Blind Alley

**Author's Note:**

> So, I keep toying with the idea of rewriting The Wandsmiths, with a different timeline, plot arc and characterizations. This is my first 10,000 words of that attempt. Life is getting busy, though, so I can't make any promises that I'll finish it. All I can guarantee is that I really, really want to. Posting it here on AO3 allows me to figure out whether I'm happy with it. My update on FFN may look different. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and thanks for... putting up with how neurotic I am.

Silver sparks flickered from the tip of Todd Ollivander's wand. It was the sort of thing that happened occasionally, when he was hit with an epiphany, or when he experienced a sudden surge of emotion. It was pure magic — no incantation, verbal or otherwise, required. Just undiluted human emotion, transmuted through a wand into something lovely.

It was the kind of thing that signaled, to Todd, that something significant was about to happen.

For the record, however — his wand did also tend to emit sparks whenever he wielded it while drunk.

‘Watch where you point that, lad,’ said the landlord, glancing up at Todd across the bar while he updated the Leaky Cauldron's ledger book at the end of the night.

‘The wand chooses the wizard, Jack,’ Todd said, having a little trouble focusing on his own as he examined the intermittent sparks coming from it. ‘But what if the wand rejects the wizard also, later in life? Like a divorce, of sorts...’

Jack didn't answer, simply closing the ledger book with a snap. He took out his wand and began to tidy the pub — Todd was vaguely aware that the floor was becoming slightly less grubby, that some overturned chairs were righting themselves.

‘You probably thought I'd be great,’ Todd muttered with a frown to his wand. ‘But look at me now… Or maybe you knew. Maybe you always knew what I was destined for.’

‘Brace up, Todd,’ the barman said gruffly, replacing his wand in his robes. ‘Many poor bastards in this world have it far worse than you. In fact, I reckon _most _have it far worse than you.’

Todd grunted, not really listening as he continued to examine his wand.

‘What ever happened to that Malkin boy? I barely see him in here anymore. The two of you used to come down the pub nearly every day.’

‘You're my best mate now, Jack.’

‘Lucky me.’

‘Derek Malkin's quite preoccupied these days — moved in with his new girlfriend,’ Todd said, still frowning at his wand. The sparks were somehow... off. They weren't the right colour. More grey than silver, really, and Todd found that inexplicably unsettling. ‘Usually, that wouldn't be so bad — I could just spend my time with Deirdre, couldn't I? But Deirdre has decided that she deserves someone else. Someone who's not me. So here I am. With my new best mate.’ 

Jack dodged slightly to the right as Todd smiled and spread out his hands, wand still crackling. 

‘Todd?’

‘Yeah, mate?’

‘Bar's closed now. You've got to clear out.’

Todd frowned, wounded and betrayed. He sighed and rested his forehead on the edge of the bar, his spectacles in danger of slipping off. A quiet, monotone groan rumbled in the back of his throat.

‘I'm happy to walk you to the courtyard, in case you might have trouble getting out.’

Todd's head snapped up. ‘I don't need _ help_,’ he said indignantly. ‘I still know how to do basic magic, thanks.’

Jack snorted. ‘Right.’ 

‘By the way,’ Todd muttered as he slipped awkwardly off the bar stool, ‘you need to point your wand at specific things when you're using the Scouring Charm.’

The landlord frowned, confused. Sorry?’

Todd indicated purposeful aim with his wand. ‘More. Like. This. Less like,’ he waved his wand lazily across the floor, ‘this.’

Jack stared at him blankly. 

‘What you're doing gets the job done, technically. But — see — if you just — _Scourgify_.’ A layer of grime and dust vanished from the corner of the pub as Todd cast the spell. ‘_Scourgify_.’ The surface of a table was suddenly so clean it was shining. ‘_Scourgify_.’

Jack blinked, then shrugged. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that just takes longer, don't it? My way's perfectly fine. No need to get so particular about it.’

‘It's a cleaning charm,’ Todd protested. ‘You've got to cast it cleanly. It's only right.'

‘You won't get to stay longer, no matter how much time you spend tidying my pub,' Jack said, and Todd's shoulders slumped. ‘Take care, lad. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow.’

Todd opened his mouth to protest, but he realised he didn't have the energy. Resigned, he walked to the back and opened the door, mostly by just leaning on it, and found himself standing in the courtyard, facing a solid brick wall.

Alone. Again.

Todd sighed.

He raised his wand and let muscle memory take over. He tapped the wall three times, and waited.

Nothing happened.

‘What the…’ he muttered, annoyed, squinting at the wall.‘Right, it's two up … three across …’ _Tap tap tap. _ Still nothing. ‘Fuck's sake.’

He groaned, running his hands up under his glasses and over his face. 'Right. Right. It's three up … three across...' But that wasn't correct either, and it took five more attempts before Todd finally remembered which brick to tap.

He stumbled into Diagon Alley — his childhood home, where his neighbours felt more like family, the borough he'd spent countless hours exploring with Malkin — and promptly vomited into the bushes near Flourish and Blotts, prompting a flock of fairies to squeal and stream out of the foliage.

One of his shaking, clammy hands supported him against the cool bricks of the bookshop as he wiped his mouth on the sleeves of his robes, and he stood there for a moment before he finally straightened with a sigh and made his way towards Ollivander's.

It took Todd a while to open the door as he fumbled with the key to the wandshop, but it eventually swung open, and he hoped the sound of the bell bouncing against the door wouldn't wake his father. He made his way into the wand shelves and squinted up at the spiral staircase that led first to the workshop and then to the flat on the top floor.

It took some determination, but Todd eventually reached the summit that was their cluttered flat.

‘_Lumos._’

Although his father had an entire workshop in which he could sift through various wand materials and craft them, Garrick Ollivander had lately taken to doing most of his work here in the flat. Doing so helped him relax, he'd explain while sipping his tea, the wireless playing softly in the background.

That was all well and good, but it meant that Todd had to navigate a rather perilous obstacle course every night in a flat that was already fairly cramped.

He walked along the wall, keeping his distance from the workshop table in the middle of the room as best he could. He carefully sidestepped several jars of preserved dragon heartstrings on the ground, wood shavings crunching underneath his boots. He reached a bookshelf, leaning against it for balance, and breathed a sigh of relief when he narrowly avoided stepping on a carving knife.

'Really, Dad, you left a bloody knife on the floor?' Todd muttered.

Confident that he'd made it through, he lowered his wand, but as he did so, his hand bumped an antique globe.

He cursed as the stand swung toward the ground, and he tried to catch the miniature Earth as it wobbled, but his reflexes weren't currently in peak form. The orb shattered with a tremendous crash, sending waves of ocean water over the floorboards and scattering the clouds that had been floating in the globe's atmosphere throughout the room.

‘What in the name of Merlin, Todd…?’ Garrick Ollivander emerged from his bedroom, the light from his own wand casting weird shadows in the room as he swept it over the floor, inspecting the mess.

A small cloud drifted lazily over Todd. He batted at it irritably, trying to wave it out of the way, but only managed to separate the moisture from it above his head. He glared at his dad through the blurred lenses of his glasses as water dripped from his hair.

‘I'll sort it,’ he said through gritted teeth.

*

The next morning, Todd's body was treating him with roughly the same level of care that he'd shown it last night. 

‘Just let me sleep,’ he groaned to no one in particular. It was so unfair. His eyelids felt like sandpaper against his eyes, and the contents of his stomach were a roiling, turbulent mess. He would much rather be unconscious, so why had he awoken roughly five hours after he'd gone to sleep?

A pressing desire for water and for the toilet finally forced him out of bed, and he stumbled out of his bedroom to kick off a bedraggled morning routine. 

Sunlight was streaming into the kitchen when he emerged from the bathroom, and his father was nowhere to be seen. Todd twitched his wand at the curtains, which closed with a snap, and began conjuring water into a glass on the counter. He downed it greedily with a combination of relief and disgust, then rifled through the kitchen cupboards, desperately looking for his bottle of _ Croke's Tonic for the Queasy, Peaky, Rotten and Below-Par. _

Oh God. Had he really used it all already?

Todd leaned his forehead against a cupboard door and closed his eyes. Sweet mother of Merlin. He didn’t think he was going to make it through the day. 

*

Todd was still fumbling with the clasp of his cloak as he weaved through the river of Christmas shoppers who had lately been making Diagon Alley even more bustling than usual. The atmosphere had lifted his mood so significantly that Todd had decided to forgo Apparition. 

Tall lanterns along the high street were decorated with holly and tinsel, and wreaths were hung on nearly every door and shopfront. Even in the cold, Wilkins was playing his fiddle in the middle of the cobbled road. Some of the notes to 'God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs' were, as usual, a little off, but Todd tossed a Sickle into his case all the same. Diagon Alley wasn't Diagon Alley without a little imperfect music, though Todd did put a hand up to his temple with a wince as Wilkins accidentally squeaked his bow across the strings.

‘All right, Todd?’ called out Quality Quidditch Supplies’ balding shopkeeper as Todd passed him on the street. ‘You look about as well as any Pud United fan ought to after yesterday’s match!’

‘Puddlemere always has a slow start, McBride,’ Todd said wryly over his shoulder. ‘They do it intentionally. They minimise injuries that way, then they overtake all the teams in the League in the end. You’ll see.’

‘Oh, aye,’ McBride said, chortling. ‘Aye, intentionally!’

Todd turned around, walking backwards so Ernie McBride could hear his retort.

‘Oh, Todd! Todd dear, watch out.’ 

He spun around just in time to stabilise a swaying tower of boxes so tall that it was concealing the witch behind them who was donning her familiar mauve robes.

‘Sorry, Madam Malkin. Do you need help with those?’

‘Oh, I can manage.’ Her voice was muffled behind the stack.

He grinned and produced his wand, levitating the shopping boxes gently out of her hands. The thin, short witch heaved a sigh of relief and massaged one of her wrists.

‘Thank you, love. I’m always useless when it comes to levitating multiple objects at once.’

‘What’s in here, new fabric?’ he said, nudging up one of the lids before she swatted his hand away.

‘Christmas presents, including yours, so no peeking. And speaking of, can you talk some sense into my son, if you’re going to see him today? He’s insisting on spending Christmas Day with the Scamanders.’

‘What? Christmas with the — you can’t be serious! And what, just leave you with my dad and me?’

‘Well…’ She paused, looking suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Well, he’s actually suggested that I join them.’

Todd blinked. ‘Oh...’ he said. ‘Oh.’

‘But Todd dear, don’t worry. I have no intention of ending our Christmas tradition with the four of us. That’s why you need to talk to Derek, we’ll get this all sorted out.’

‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘I mean, I guess I can’t blame him, for wanting to spend Christmas with Sarah… I guess that means the both of you will be in Dorset?’

Madam Malkin peered up at him sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ she repeated. ‘We’ll sort this.’

‘Er, yeah. Course.’ He peered up at the seven boxes that were floating alongside the two of them. ‘These’ll follow you back to your shop. I assume that’s where you’re going?’

‘Oh, you’re a godsend, darling.’

‘I’m actually on my way to Slug and Jiggers now. I’ll talk to Derek.’

‘Perfect,’ she said, patting his arm. ‘Get something for yourself while you’re there, you’re looking a bit peaky.’

Todd chuckled. 'Will do.’

‘Well, I won’t have you lingering in the cold any longer, dear. Till soon.’

‘Yeah.’ He watched her go, the boxes bobbing alongside her. He took off his glasses to press his thumb against the space between his eyes, trying to will away his pounding headache and this overwhelming feeling that everyone was moving forward, while he was moving backwards.

He sighed and continued forward, glancing up at the _ Slug and Jiggers _sign above the apothecary. Perhaps all of this would be easier to process once he no longer felt like death. He was feeling downright optimistic about that prospect, until he halted in front of the two steps leading to the shop as someone opened the door to leave.

By some miracle, Todd had managed to avoid running into Deirdre Fortescue in Diagon Alley since she’d dumped him. It helped that he didn’t go outside much, other than to drink at the pub. And there was an unspoken understanding between them that certain parts of the borough were off-limits to the other. He got the Leaky Cauldron and Flourish and Blotts. She got the ice-cream parlour and the whole of Knockturn Alley, with its better music, better food and better pub. 

He’d hoped that Slug and Jiggers could be his as well, though, of course, that was a little unrealistic. You had to get your Pepperup Potion somewhere.

Deirdre seemed frozen on the spot, blocking the doorway. The fact that he was at the bottom of the steps meant that he was looking up at her, not that different of an angle from which she’d dumped him. When he’d been on one knee. Holding a ring.

A cold breeze came through, gently picking up Deirdre’s long blonde hair. Todd shivered.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

He cleared his throat. His mind was abuzz and blank all at once. Deirdre moved toward him suddenly, and he tensed, before realising she was just trying to get past him.

‘Running late. Erm — good to see you…’ she said, voice tight.

She darted around him, not meeting his eyes, and escaped into the crowd of shoppers, her midnight blue cloak rippling as she stepped quickly, all but breaking into an outright sprint.

Leaving the wand shop was always a terrible idea. What had he been thinking? No amount of Croke’s Tonic was worth facing whatever this feeling was, this punch to the gut that kicked off a hundred tortuous thoughts and memories. 

He put his pounding head in his hands. He hadn’t even realised he’d sunk to a sitting position on the apothecary’s front steps. He heard the door open again, and he didn’t even care enough to look up.

‘Oh, mate… You can’t let people see you like this. At least come inside.’

Todd looked up to see Derek Malkin smiling sympathetically, his hands on his knees. 

‘Do you sell anything in there that I can use to kill myself?’ Todd muttered, letting Derek pull him up with a grunt.

‘You can’t die on me yet. You owe me two Galleons after yesterday’s match.’

‘Oh, cheers. I feel so much better now.’

Todd fished coins out of his robes, ignoring Derek’s request for payment as he approached Sarah Scamander behind the counter. She was wearing the same heavy potion-brewing apron as her boyfriend, not to mention an even more sympathetic look.

‘I’ll have two bottles of Croke’s,’ he said. ‘Or hemlock. Whichever’s cheaper.’

‘You and Deirdre were bound to run into each other eventually,’ Sarah said, turning to the shelves and grabbing two small purple bottles. ‘At least you’ve got it over with.’

‘Yeah. Smashing,’ Todd said dully. ‘I’m sure everything will go back to normal now.’

Derek sidled up to Sarah behind the counter. The two of them watched while Todd uncorked one of the bottles right there in the shop, pinched his nose and took a long swig.

‘You’re really meant to measure out the… oh well.’

‘He’s fine,’ Derek said. ‘He’s got a good sense for it by now.’

‘I’m sure he does,’ she said wryly.

Todd winced as he swallowed. It always burned on the way down. He sighed and closed his eyes, setting down the bottle. Relief spread through his body, slowly easing the pain behind his eyes and in his shoulders. As he felt his nausea dissipate too, he opened his eyes again. Sarah and Derek were watching him as two parents might watch their sniffling child drink a potion.

‘Better?’ Sarah said.

Todd scowled at her.

‘So, how is old Jack Hopps?’ Derek asked. ‘I assume you saw him last night, eh?’ 

‘Oh, he’s brilliant. We might have lunch plans today, actually. I reckon he knows of someone who’s looking for a flatmate. Someone who has the decency not to break a lease. Might be kind of refreshing.’

‘I didn’t break the lease, mate,’ Derek said bracingly. ‘I moved house one month early, and I _paid _for that month. And at the time, we were _both _planning to move out. Look, I know things didn’t turn out like you’d hoped, but admit it — you like living in Diagon Alley again! You missed it. You’d run for mayor of this place if you could.’

‘Oh, absolutely. Sleeping in my childhood bedroom and living two shops down from my ex-girlfriend. It’s like drinking Felix Felicis every day.’

Derek sighed and exchanged a look with Sarah. Todd huffed, feeling a little guilty. He knew he was not the most delightful person to be around these days. He shoved his hand begrudgingly into his pocket again, pulled out a couple Galleons and tossed them at Derek.

‘It really was a horrendous match,’ he grumbled.

Derek grinned as he caught the coins. ‘Ah, well. Everyone knows Puddlemere United always has a slow start. They like to give the other teams a false sense of security.’

‘Yes! See, that’s exactly what I’ve been saying…’

Sarah watched, amused, as the two wizards launched into a detailed breakdown of the match against the Holyhead Harpies. She eventually rolled her eyes and left to begin chopping valerian roots. 

‘And,’ Todd continued, ‘Puddlemere is _always _shit on Mondays. Honestly mate, I reckon that their last manger cursed them when they didn’t renew his contract. Think about it. It’d be nearly impossible to execute a perpetual curse, but a curse that only takes effect on certain days would be doable and far harder to detect —’

‘But the match was on a Tuesday.’

‘Eh? The match was yesterday.’

‘Yeah. Yesterday was Tuesday.’

‘Today’s Tuesday.’

‘Today’s _ Wednesday _, mate,’ Derek said, grinning. ‘This is what happens when you work on the weekends, you get all mixed up.’

Todd blinked, staring in Derek in disbelief.

‘Shit...’ Todd said. ‘Shit. _ Shit.’ _

He grabbed his two tonic bottles off the counter in a frenzy and bolted out the door.

‘Shit…. shit… fuck… shit… _ fuck _…’

He turned on the spot the minute he left Slug and Jiggers, Disapparating with a loud crack and reappearing in front of Ollivander’s. He burst through the wandshop’s doors and raced to the back, taking the stairs on the spiral staircase two at a time. 

There was no one on the workshop floor that he could see. 

‘Hello?’ Todd called out, trying to catch his breath. ‘I’m sorry, I’m here now!’

There was no response. He darted to his father’s office, wrenched open the door and found a very annoyed Maggie Gibson scowling at him from his dad’s chair. 

She was wearing flying trousers and a thick burgundy jumper, her cloak draped loosely around her shoulders and her boots propped up on a table. She looked like she’d been waiting a while.

‘Where. Have. You. _ Been?’ _

‘I’m… I’m here now,’ Todd repeated, clutching his side. He set the bottles of Croke’s Tonic on his dad’s massive antique desk. 

‘Unbelievable.’ She glared at the bottles, then at him.

‘Where’s my dad?’

‘Well, the Portkey’s expired, hasn’t it?’ Maggie threw up her hands. ‘So he went to the Ministry for a replacement.’

Todd swore again. He turned around and bolted back to the staircase.

‘What the… where are you going?’

God, he was out of shape. Just running up his own bloody staircase was giving him a heart attack. Maggie’s footsteps, to his great irritation, were thundering behind him.

‘He’s not upstairs, Todd, he’s in Whitehall, didn’t you hear what I —’

‘I’m getting my fucking broomstick, Maggie.’

‘There’s not exactly any rush. This’ll take ages to sort.’

‘We’re going to meet him at the Ministry,’ he said, striding into his bedroom.

‘What? Why?’

He ignored her, wrenching open his wardrobe to pull out trousers and other warm clothing he could fly in. ‘Why didn’t he remind me that today was the hunt?’ Todd hissed, flipping through hangers to find the proper attire he needed. 

‘I don’t understand how you’re late to work so often when you live in the building. Did you actually walk downstairs and _ leave _ instead of meeting us in the workshop? What were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking it was Tuesday. Can you please leave now?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Maggie. Can I have five seconds of privacy in this godforsaken place to _ change?’ _

She huffed, finally turning on her heel and slamming his door behind her. Todd continued his stream of cursing while he wriggled and stumbled, dealing with stupid zips and buttons as quickly as he could. He grabbed two broomsticks that were mounted above his bed, and when he emerged, she was still standing there, arms crossed.

‘Come on,’ he said, tossing her a broom, which she fumbled. ‘We’ve got plenty of Floo powder up here in the flat.’

‘It makes more sense to just wait here. Do you even know where to go?’

‘Yes. There’s only one department that deals with Portkeys, and I know where it is.’

‘But _ why _meet him there?’

‘Because I’m sure he’s already cross with me,’ he snapped, losing his temper, ‘so I might as well try to mitigate the damage!’ He took a pinch of Floo powder from the tarnished silver snuff box on the mantelpiece, threw the powder into the fireplace with a little more force than was necessary and stepped into the newly green flames. ‘Ministry of Magic!’ he shouted. 

He stumbled out into the Ministry’s atrium, brushing soot off his robes with one hand while he clutched his broom in the other. He nodded at some of the wizards who strode past and checked his watch, breathing sharply through his nose as he waited. Maggie, to her credit, stepped through a moment later. 

‘Follow me,’ he said. 

He walked towards the lifts as quickly as he could while still allowing Maggie to keep up. He didn’t remember exactly where the Department of Magical Transport was, but he was pretty sure he could wing it. 

‘Missing our Portkey is one thing, but what bothers me most of all is that the timing’s all wrong for the unicorns,’ Maggie said, invading Todd’s personal space to ensure he had to listen to her while they walked. ‘They’re far more skittish in the middle of the day. There was a reason your dad planned to go out to the forest in the morning, and now I’m worried the entire hunt will be for naught …’

‘This is really helping, Maggie, I’m so glad you’re saying all this.’ They reached the lifts, and Todd punched the button several times.

When the lift finally arrived, the two of them had to squeeze in with their brooms, squished against the wall together with the crowds. Todd checked his watch again. Maggie nervously twirled a strand of her brown curly hair. 

‘I told him that it’d be better to just go without you,’ she continued, as they jolted forward, ‘that I do most of the heavy lifting during the unicorn hunts anyway…’

‘Cheers, Gibson,’ Todd muttered. ‘You always have my back.’

Todd struggled to hear the cool female voice in the lift that was introducing the departments. It was well into the middle of the morning, and Ministry employees were talking and complaining and moving about.

'Excuse me.' Todd bent down to speak to an elderly, stooped warlock who was desperately clutching a walking stick as the lift lurched back and forth. 'Can you tell us which floor the DMT is on?'

Maggie raised her eyebrows at Todd in exasperation.

'That'll be level six, lad.' He looked up at him curiously. 'You wouldn't be Garrick Ollivander's boy, would you? Merlin’s beard, you're the spitting image of him when he was young, save for the spectacles. Got the same eyes and everything.'

Todd smiled. 'Yeah, I am. We're here on business for the wandshop right now, as a matter of fact.'

'Is that right?' he said, giving Maggie a kind smile. 'And what do you do, love? Are you a clerk there?'

'I'm Mr Ollivander's apprentice, actually,' she said, not making much of an effort to conceal her annoyance.

'We _ both _ are,’ Todd interjected.

‘And the only reason we're here at all is because _ one _ of the two apprentices spent the previous night drinking and then decided to pop by his best mate's shop for a hangover tonic when he was meant to be in France on a unicorn hunt.’

Todd gripped the broomstick in his hand a little tighter. The warlock chuckled. 'Well, you're only young once, lad,' he said, clapping Todd on the arm. 'All work and no play, you know what they say.'

'What do they say about all play and _ no _ work?' Maggie muttered under her breath.

Todd opened his mouth, but the cool voice of the lifts interrupted him. ‘Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Centre.’

‘This is us,’ he said, grabbing Maggie’s arm.

‘No kidding.’

‘Thanks for your help,’ he said with a smile and a nod to the old man.

‘Tell your father that Otis Goldsworthy says hello.’

‘Of course! I’ll pass it on. Excuse us, ’scuse us, sorry, this is us.’

Maggie yanked her arm out of Todd’s grasp as they squeezed out of the crowd and onto the sixth floor. ‘People are always making excuses for you. It’s maddening.’

‘None of the people who actually _ matter _ make excuses for me.’ He shot a glare at her before storming down one of the corridors. ‘Sometimes I feel like I’m dodging a couple of Bludgers every day at work, the way you and my dad have been ganging up on me.’

‘You need to snap out of this funk, Todd. Admit it, you’ve really been phoning it in for a while now, and we both know that if you’d just _focus_, then the quality of the wands you’re making _will_ improve —’ 

‘I’m not being _ phony _,’ Todd said, heated, as he marched ahead of her. ‘It’d be a lot bloody easier to focus without you two constantly berating me.’

‘No, _ phoning _, not… Oh, never mind.’

‘I don’t stick my nose in your business and criticise everything you do.’

‘Actually,’ Maggie said, her eyes narrowing, ‘you _ do. _You just do it behind my back.’

He was too distracted to come up with a coherent rebuttal. His anxiety level rose as they passed door after door that didn’t have the word ‘Portkey’ on it. 

‘Sorry,’ he said, halting in front of a witch with a clipboard so suddenly that Maggie stumbled into him, ‘we’re looking for the DMT?’

‘It’s at the other end of the corridor,’ she said, pointing in the direction they’d come. ‘Walk for about ten minutes, it’ll be on your left.’

‘Thank you,’ Todd said, unable to conceal the groan in his voice and turned around. 

Maggie huffed as they headed back the way they had come. ‘This was a terrible idea. I knew it, we should’ve just stayed put in Diag… what are you doing?’

‘We’re carrying broomsticks aren’t we?’ he said, mounting his. ‘Why are we even walking at all?’

‘You _ can’t _be —’

Todd kicked off the ground and began zipping just beneath the ceiling, ignoring the shrieks and tuts of those below him as people ducked and reached for their rolls of parchment that he accidentally scattered in his wake. He took a deep breath, savouring the moment. Finally, a moment of peace. Of course, it was quickly shattered.

‘We’re going too fast to even read the signs now,’ she said, suddenly flying alongside him. ‘How are we going to know when we reach the Portkey Office?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Except that… it does.’

‘No, it doesn’t. Because my dad’s right there.’

Todd landed abruptly, taking a few stumbling steps toward his father — who was wearing a disapproving frown and clutching a broomstick and a dirty flower pot — as he recovered from the rapid dismount. Maggie let out a stifled shriek as she unsuccessfully attempted the same move, crashing to the ground. She winced as she stood up, brushing off her trousers and righting her cloak. 

The two apprentices immediately began talking at once.

‘Dad, I’m _ really _ sorry —’

‘— _ told _ him that we needed to stay put, but he wouldn’t _ listen _ —’

‘— could have sworn today was Tuesday —’

‘— he was at Slug and Jiggers, what a shocker_ —’ _

‘— I know the timing is important for these sorts of hunts. I swear it won’t happen again —’

Mr Ollivander held up a hand, exasperated, and silenced them. ‘_Enough. _I’m just glad the two of you came here to meet me, because this Portkey goes off in sixty seconds. It was the only one available in such short notice, so I was just planning to go to the forest alone. Gather round. We don’t have much time.’

Todd shot Maggie a smug look as he placed a finger on the flower pot. ‘Told you this was a good idea.’

‘Yeah, you’re really on top of your game today, Todd,’ she said, irritably batting a disheveled curl out of her face.

‘Any minute now,’ Garrick Ollivander said. ‘Hold on, both of you.’

They stood in an awkward, silent circle for a moment, all staring at the small red flower pot in anticipation and making sure not to take their hands off it. Then the Portkey glowed silver, transporting all three of them abruptly out of the Ministry of Magic with a sudden jerk.

*

They arrived in the middle of Brocéliande. Todd stretched out his arms and stumbled to his left, regaining his balance just in time to catch his dad with an _ ‘oof!’ _as he fell backwards into him. Maggie dove for the flower pot and caught it just in time as it fell from Mr Ollivander’s hands. 

‘Rubbish form of transport,’ Mr Ollivander grumbled as he righted himself, Todd still hovering around his dad in case he stumbled again. ‘Now, Todd, as you well know, it is not ideal to try to approach a unicorn in the middle of the day. They are far more skittish, and I’m highly sceptical that this will be a successful day.’

Todd frowned, dropping his hands and shoving them into his pockets.

‘But we’re here,’ he continued, ‘so we might as well give it a try. The Portkey will re-engage at half-one, so we don’t have much time.’

Todd’s dad began to conjured a pole and then a large purple banner at its top. He tapped the wooden pole rhymically with his wand, and it grew taller and taller, stretching past the trees. Todd squinted through the branches as it swayed in the wind. 

‘Yet another time when it would be handy if we could all Apparate,’ Todd said, craning his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie redden.

‘You both know the routine,’ his dad said, ignoring him. ‘Let’s spread out and canvass the forest as best we can without losing sight of each other. If anyone spots a unicorn, send up red sparks. Miss Gibson will do the rest. The flag is a precaution, just in case she gets separated from us and needs to find her way back to the Portkey without one of us transporting her via side-along Apparition.’

‘Best make myself useful then,’ Todd muttered as he mounted his broom, and kicked off before he was even sure his dad was finished talking. 

He flew up, up, up, manoeuvring around the branches above him and shielding his face with an arm as he finally crashed through the canopy and escaped into the sky, where fresh, crisp air rushed through his hair and made his cloak billow out behind him. He bobbed lazily on his broomstick, squinting into the endless expanse of trees in the distance. Treetops rustled beneath him, signaling that his dad and Maggie were on their way up, and he gripped his broom handle and took off like a shot.

The wind whooshed in his ears as he sped faster and faster, increasing his ascent and his distance from the Portkey point. He looped a large figure eight in the air, suppressing the urge to whoop out of fear that he might scare off any unicorns below. 

The forest, which was gorgeous from any angle, was particularly breathtaking from above — lush even in December, the trees sloping into a valley below. Up here, he could see a stream winding just south of where they’d arrived — exactly the kind of place where a herd of unicorns might stop to drink and graze. He changed direction, ducking under an undulating flock of blue Jobberknolls. 

‘Ollivander dodges the Slytherin Chasers' defensive formation with ease, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the goal posts,’ he muttered, holding an imaginary Quaffle under his arm. ‘His path is clear but for the Keeper, let’s see if Ravenclaw is about to take the lead … and, can this be, Ollivander’s actually dropped the Quaffle … but … no … it’s a fake-out! He kicks it towards the third goal … and … wait … Keeper still blocks it … and Slytherin is now in possession, because Todd Ollivander is a failure even in his fantasieeeeeees …’ 

He spun down in a tight corkscrew, eventually righting himself as he descended farther, squinting at the banks of the stream to look for any sign of a unicorn. There was none to be seen, and he flew lower and lower until he was close enough to drape a hand down and skim the water that blurred beneath him. He kept glancing to one side, then the other, hoping to catch sight of a unicorn through the trees.

The fact was, Maggie _ did _tend to do the heavy lifting during these unicorn hunts, but that shouldn’t have been a big deal. Todd was able to perform nonfatal dragon surgery, could chase down a phoenix on a mountaintop, could pair a wand with a wizard just as well as his father.

He was a valuable employee of Ollivander’s. But he had discovered recently, to his immense shock, that he wasn’t an adequate wandmaker.

It was somewhat inexplicable that his wands weren’t turning out right. He understood the theory perfectly, had memorised the incantation years ago. His father would watch him choose the materials, carve the wood, perform the ritual magic that gave the wand life, and even his dad would be surprised to find that Todd’s wands wouldn’t work once completed. 

Mr Ollivander was surprisingly unfazed by this. ‘It’s tricky magic,’ he’d tell Todd. ‘An art, not a science. It’s not unlike learning to pick a lock. You have to learn what feels wrong until you know what feels right.’

But the magic wasn’t tricky for Maggie.

Todd had been so sceptical when she’d applied for the apprenticeship two years ago. She was a year below him, and although he’d seen her in the Ravenclaw common room all the time when they’d been students, the two of them had never spoken more than a few words to each other. The only thing Todd knew about Maggie Gibson was probably the only thing that most Hogwarts students knew about Maggie Gibson. 

When she’d been in her Fifth Year, she’d badly splinched herself in Hogsmeade while illegally trying to attempt Apparition. Todd had been with Deirdre at Madam Puddifoot’s at the time, and he could still recall Maggie’s screams reverberating outside the tea shop. Everyone had rushed out and been frozen in terror at the sight. As she writhed on the ground, the blood was everywhere — in Maggie’s curly hair that she’d grown to her waist, on her face, on her Hogwarts robes, across the cobblestones of Hogsmeade’s high street. It had seemed as if the blood was coming from dozens of wounds, but everyone later found out that she’d only lost half her hand. 

Professor Sprout had been the only professor on hand that day, but she’d sprung into action beautifully, stopping the bleeding as well as she could and levitating Maggie to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had mended Maggie’s hand so that it was as good as new, and the only suffering Maggie had to endure was Saturday detentions for a year, as well as endless questions from students. ‘How could you be so stupid?’ they’d ask. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘I thought I could do it,’ she’d answer in a quavering voice. ‘I’d been preparing all year. I thought I understood it. I just wanted to practise.’

As months went by, her answers became angrier and sharper when people would still occasionally bring it up. ‘For the record,’ she’d snap, ‘I _ could _ do it. I _ did _ Apparate.’ But, ironically, when the time came for her to take her test, she couldn’t do it. She was too scared to even twist on the spot. 

To this day, at 19 years old, Maggie still couldn’t Apparate. Needless to say, Todd had made his recommendation: Don’t hire her. She was clearly too reckless. But, during her interview, Mr Ollivander had found her charms and enchantments… well… incredibly charming and enchanting. Even Todd had to begrudgingly admit that her magic had been impressive. She had conjured an enormous grandfather clock that told perfect time, had charmed wings on all the Knuts in her purse until they swirled around her like a glittering, jingling flock of birds. And for her finale, she had grabbed several quills from Mr Ollivander’s desk and enchanted them on the spot. Each quill had a unique personality — one wrote strange, beautiful poetry about illness and death; another preferred to pen angry, rambling letters to the Daily Prophet about tax reform; the last one sketched out sheet music for a song that, when Mr Ollivander hummed it out, turned out to be a jaunty little waltz. 

‘She’s the one, Todd!’ Mr Ollivander repeated this over and over after Maggie left the shop. ‘She’s the one!’

After a year and a half with the wandshop, Maggie had already crafted a couple of wands that were good enough to sell, a milestone that Todd had yet to reach. 

But Todd still believed her to be reckless. When he watched her recite the wand-crafting incantation, he could tell that she didn’t seem to be in full control of the magic she was wielding, even if the results were impressive. Most troublingly, she’d lately begun dabbling in pyromancy — fire magic — while imbuing dragon heartstrings with the necessary magic that wandlore required. Mr Ollivander was delighted with these recent experiments, but Todd was unnerved by something that felt vaguely Dark. Mr Ollivander assured him that it wasn’t, but Todd knew that his dad’s passion for wandlore sometimes blinded him to unsettling magic. 

A sudden whinny yanked Todd’s attention back to the forest. He halted in mid-air, hovering above the stream. Wide-eyed and hopeful, he scanned his surroundings. He might’ve imagined the sound. But maybe not. 

The clouds shifted above him, and the sunlight caught on something that glinted. Something... golden. He couldn’t see much, but he heard what sounded like an equine snort.

Todd grinned and nudged his broomstick higher up in the air, where he’d be less likely to spook a unicorn. Once he felt he was sufficiently high up, he peered down into the trees, and sure enough, down through the trees he could just make out a herd of four adult unicorns and three golden foals. 

Todd allowed himself a silent celebration in the air before getting back to the matter at hand. He searched the sky for another person on a broomstick. There was no one to be found, but that wasn't surprising. He needed to get a bit higher and expand his line of sight.

A mossy rock in the middle of the stream easily marked the location where the unicorns were, so he felt comfortable enough climbing into the air again. He looked around, rotating slowly in the air for a while until he spied a promising figure in the distance. He squinted, unable to detect who it was. He rose his wand into the air and sent up a shower of red sparks.

Finally, it seemed like the person on a broom noticed him and began to travel toward Todd, so he lowered his wand and waited. It eventually became obvious that it was Maggie he had summoned, and Todd sighed.

She had gathered her curls back into a bun, and the excitement on her face was visible long before she was close enough to speak to.

‘How many?’ she asked over the wind.

‘Seven,’ he said, and he couldn't help but mirror her grin that widened at this news.

‘Perfect.’

He pointed out the rock that served as his marker down below, and he followed her as she began her descent.

‘By the way,’ she said as they flew, ‘did you give me a different broom than usual? This one seems different.’

‘Yeah.’ Todd chuckled. ‘I accidentally gave you the good one.’

Maggie snorted. ‘Well at least something good thing came from your tardiness,’ she said wryly, slowing once they neared the place he'd pointed to. 

‘If all goes well, I think lots of good things are about to come of it,' he said, lowering his voice. He grabbed her shoulder to bring her to a complete halt. Thankfully, the herd was still below, and Maggie gasped quietly as she peered down. 

‘What's the plan, you reckon?’ he whispered. ‘There are three foals down there, so I can approach those while you handle the rest.’

Maggie's face fell. ‘Oh, Todd,’ she whispered back, ‘you've got to stay up here, you must know that.’

‘No, no, it's fine, there are foals.’

‘Foals trailing mums who will scarper the moment a man appears.’

‘Maggie, there's plenty I can — ’

‘Todd please, you know the unicorns might run off even if it's just me.’

‘Well...’ Todd scanned the horizon again. ‘Let me find my dad, we'll let him decide. Stay here, I'll be right back — ’

‘Don't be ridiculous. You've delayed this long enough, let's just do this properly.’

Todd frowned. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Do what you want.’

‘Todd, I just — ’

‘You'd better get a move on.’

She sighed and, after one last glance at him, flew a few metres away before dropping through the canopy. He strained his eyes across the horizon for any sign of his dad. But Garrick Ollivander liked to search by foot sometimes, and that’s likely what he was doing.

Todd heard Maggie long before he saw her emerge from the brush. If she’d been whistling any other tune, he never would have heard it over the wind, but this wasn’t any ordinary song. 

Todd felt his heartbeat and breathing slow with each soothing, clear note. It was a fairy song — the kind of magic that Professor Kettleburn and Hogwarts in general looked down upon, but that generations of Ollivanders found to be unmistakably effective when dealing with unicorns. 

All seven unicorns were staring, alert and mesmerised, in the direction the music was coming from. Maggie eventually pushed through a shrub, still whistling, and stood before the creatures in her dark green cloak. They backed away slightly, tails twitching, but they didn’t dart away, which was a very good sign. Maggie, who knew that a little patience went a long way in this situation, leaned against a tree and continued to whistle the song.

The tune was a stirring ballad, melancholy yet comforting, eerie yet warm. As she continued — slowly, sweetly — Todd’s heart swelled with unusual fondness for Maggie, as it always did whenever she used this tactic on the unicorns. The song wasn’t seductive, per se. It didn’t make Todd lose his head, like a Veela’s song. It just made him want to do something like… like… wrap Maggie in a blanket and bring her a cup of tea. Once when she was practising the song in the workshop, Todd came up to her and gave her an overly long hug before he eventually realised what he was doing, cleared his throat and broke away from a very amused Maggie.

As he watched her whistle the song here in the forest, he wasn’t even bothered — mostly — by the fact that she didn’t have the Nimbus 1000 with her, which meant she’d clearly just left the thing on the ground somewhere before approaching the unicorns. Todd sighed. He hadn’t been joking when he said it was his good broom.

Finally, Maggie produced a handful of berries from her pocket and took a few cautious steps toward the unicorns. A few of them twitched their ears, and Todd heaved a sigh of relief as the lone unicorn stallion approached her, sniffing at her hand, and allowed her to pet him. Maggie grinned up at Todd, who gave her a wry thumbs up from the air. 

She continued to whistle as she took out her wand and a pouch to gather the unicorn hairs, but the whistle faltered as she fumbled and worked, and Todd blinked. He’d been so distracted by the song that he hadn’t noticed that there was a distinct sound of… galloping… in the distance. He looked around, confused. Were there more unicorns headed this way? 

And then he saw an arrow whizz so close to Maggie’s cloak that it rustled.

Todd heart leapt into his throat. He didn’t hesitate, diving into the trees, broom and all, and yelled, ‘CENTAURS! GET DOWN! GET OUT!’

_ ‘Vous n'êtes pas la bienvenue ici, sorciers,’ _ growled a deep voice. Maggie cast a hasty Shield Charm around herself and Todd as he landed on the ground beside her. At least three — probably more — very angry centaurs were approaching them, bows and arrows trained on them. _ ‘Vous et votre espèce avez envahi cette forêt depuis trop longtemps déjà. Laissez les licornes tranquilles, et allez-vous en!’ _

‘Do you speak French?’ Maggie said, turning to Todd with wild eyes.

‘I don’t have to speak fucking French to get the message, Gibson!’ Todd bellowed as arrows began to swish around them. He had absolutely no confidence whatsoever that a magical Shield Charm could protect them from very solid, very deadly Centaur arrows. ‘Where’s my Nimbus? Sod it, sod it, just get on mine, come on!’

‘No!’ Maggie cried. ‘No, we were so close —’ To Todd’s absolute horror, Maggie darted deeper into the forest in the opposite direction, where the unicorns had taken off. 

‘ARE YOU INSANE?!’ He turned back to the centaurs — there were five now, because of course there were — and held up his hands in as much of a gesture of peace as he could while brandishing a wand. ‘_Nous ne… faisons… _er…_ Nous ne… sommes… pas…_ oh, fuck it — please don’t murder us, we’re just here for the unicorn’s _hair_ — ’

But apparently the only thing more offensive to a French centaur than a wizard was an Englishman, and Todd’s babbling only seemed to further incense the creatures, whose weapons were still all trained on him. 

_ ‘Nous savons que vous savez comment disparaitre, sorcier,’ _ the centaur growled. It was nonsense to Todd. _ ‘Alors disparaisses. Maintenant.’ _

Todd glanced over his shoulder twice, and, with an endless stream of expletives, ran into the trees after Maggie.

Adrenaline thundered through his veins as the occasional arrow hummed and hissed past him. He couldn’t tell if he could hear the galloping behind him or if that was just the blood pounding in his ears. It was a good thing he was wearing trousers, because robes weren’t exactly ideal for dead sprints. But as he pondered this, he realised that his broomstick was — just as it had been at the Ministry of Magic — far more useful between his legs than in his hand. He jumped on it and began to fly, weaving between the trees as best he could, before he finally swooped up and crashed through the canopy, hoping that he’d be more successful finding Maggie from the air than he would on the ground. He’d certainly be less likely to get killed. But, alas, so much for that, he thought, as another arrow sailed into the air and grazed the side of his calf. 

He flew higher into the air and found Maggie a few metres to his left, running in the direction of the unicorns like a psychopath. Blood still pounding in his ears, he dove down toward her, and crashed directly into her.

She screamed as he knocked her down. ‘Todd! You’re moving like a train, you could’ve killed me —’

_ ‘I _ could’ve killed _ you??’ _ he yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. ‘You should be grateful that I even came looking for you at all! Why the _ fuck _ did you run away? I could’ve Apparated the both of us away immediately, but apparently you’ve decided that a couple unicorn hairs are worth my life _ and _ yours!’

‘These unicorns are different!’ she said, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him back. ‘You probably couldn’t tell from your angle in the sky, but, Todd, these unicorns are _ enormous! _Even the mares — even the foals! — I’ve never seen them this big before! I think that their inherent magic might be particularly powerful.’

_ ‘WOW THAT’S SO INTERESTING!’ _Todd said, feeling a bit deranged. Maggie looked genuinely alarmed. ‘Not sure it’s a discovery that’s worth ending the Ollivander line over, though!’

Maggie took a deep breath, which seemed as much an attempt to calm him as it was to calm herself. She gave him a weak smile and continued to hold his shoulders. ‘Todd, look, I’m sorry. I know that was terrifying. But, hey, hey — it’s okay. The centaurs are gone now, aren’t they? All we need to do is track down those unicorns again, and then we can go home, alright?’

‘Maggie. We’re going back to London. _ Now.’ _

‘You’re welcome to go back to the flag if you want to,’ she said brightly, even as she snatched his broom out of his hands. ‘I’ll meet you there!’

‘Stop — no!’ Todd yelled as Maggie mounted the broom. He grabbed the broom by the tail just as she tried to fly away, yanking her back. ‘I'm down a Nimbus because of you! I'll be buggered if I let you lose another one!’

‘We can't pass up this opportunity!’

‘Maggie, don't you dare — !’

She grabbed him by the front of his jumper, hauled him onto the broom and kicked off the ground. He tried to find his balance as best he could, bellowing angry nonsense into her ear as they flew, which didn't seem to faze her. 

The trees whipped past them as they soared into the air, and Todd found himself above the canopy again. Once in the air, Maggie found the unicorns quickly. The entire herd was galloping at a clip below.

‘There's nothing you can do while they're on the move!’ Todd said. 'We need to get back to the Portkey, it'll re-engage in —’ He struggled to check his watch while holding on, partly to Maggie and partly to the broom. ‘— in a quarter of an hour!’

‘We'd better hurry, then,’ she said, tightening her grip on the handle. ‘Get ready, I'm about to dive.’

Todd shouted something less-than-professional as the two of them plummeted back into the forest, and they were suddenly flying alongside several very startled unicorns. The stallion whinnied and shook its head as it slowed, but the mares and the foals continued to sprint forward in their alarm. Maggie flew with the mares, ignoring the stallion as they left it behind. 

‘Don't you want to go after the —?’

‘No,’ she said, eyes still locked on the remaining six unicorns as they raced around trees and brush. Todd had to admit, Maggie had been right — the beasts appeared to be unusually large and strong. He watched their muscles strain against pure white hide and thought about all the nuances that a unicorn tail hair plucked from a strong female could bring to a wand, when such a core typically signalled finesse and elegance, rather than strength. If a wand core contained all those combined elements, the final result could be... Well. Worth a slight risk, certainly. 

‘I'm going to need my hands now,’ Maggie said over her shoulder, ‘can you hold me in place while we fly?’

Todd sighed, finally resigning himself to the fact that this mad quest was worthwhile.

The position was awkward, with the two of them pressed up against each other for balance. Todd was leaning forward, grasping the front of the broom so that he could both steer and hold Maggie in place, while she produced her wand and unlooped a pouch that was hanging around her neck. 

‘Might as well just yank out the hair,’ he shouted over the galloping. ‘The poor bastards are already spooked.'

She hesitated, then sighed, replacing her wand that usually would have painlessly cut the strands. She stretched towards the unicorn's mane. Its eyes widened and it tossed its head, trying to move out of Maggie's reach as it ran, but she grabbed it in one final lunge. But in the chaos of the situation, she grabbed far too much hair, and Maggie screamed as it jerked its head violently to the side, nearly pulling her off the broom.

‘Shit — fuck, hang on!’ Todd said. ‘I've got you, I've got you! Just a couple of bloody hairs, Gibson, we make wands not wigs!’

‘Oh, _ thanks _Todd, I had no idea!’

‘The person who’s saved your arse multiple times today would appreciate a little less sarcasm!’

‘Urgh — look, I’ve got hairs from this one, just — just move me over towards the others.’

Todd ground his teeth with a mix of irritation and concentration, navigating the sub-par broom as best he could around countless obstacles that the forest presented while Maggie leaned toward one of the other unicorns. 

She plucked hairs from a second, then a third, and then finally a foal.

‘Right — time to go,’ Todd shouted over Maggie’s protests while he pulled the broom back up into the air to seek out the purple flag, which thankfully was waving at a reasonable distance. He still wasn’t at all sure that they were going to make it, and he only now allowed himself to ponder just how bad it would be if they didn’t reach the Portkey in time. The distance back to London was much too far for a single wizard’s Apparition, let alone side-along Apparition.

He urged the broom ahead faster and faster as Maggie tucked her head down against the wind. Todd’s anxiety about his Nimbus 1000 — they could certainly come back and summon it, right? — mingled with his worries about making it back on time. 

Todd was hit with a wave of déjà vu as he landed at the bottom of the flag pole, his dad giving them a wild look as he desperately held out the flower pot. Without a word, Maggie and Todd rushed forward, wide-eyed and windswept, and grasped it, and Todd felt the familiar yank behind his navel seconds later.

None of them kept their footing this time as they landed in the dim corridors of the Ministry of Magic once again. Todd propped himself up on his elbows with a groan. 

‘Any luck?’ Despite being on the floor, Mr Ollivander’s expression was bright and hopeful.

With a grin, Maggie opened the pouch around her neck and let him peer inside. 

‘Marvelous!’ Mr Ollivander exclaimed, clapping his hands with delight. ‘Absolutely marvelous.’

Todd sighed and let his head fall back to the floor. ‘Just go around me,’ he said weakly to the confused Ministry witches and wizards who were attempting to sidestep the three people sitting in the middle of the corridor.


End file.
